Flux Wanderrift's Arc

Chapter 15 of 18

The twelve symbols blazed. Twelve doors opened at once. Councilors stepped through in robes of every color, and each stopped when they saw Flux in the high seat. The chamber filled with silence, then anger. One old councilor pointed. "An intruder. In the master's chair. Seize them." Guards moved. Flux did not stand. They had no proof the council could not simply erase. Accusations shouted at dawn would sound like one thief's ravings. The council would call it a break-in and bury the rest. "Wait," Flux said. "You've all read a letter today. My name was on it. So were Pembroke's crimes. Every dimension that reads it is watching for what you do next." The councilors traded looks. Flux saw it land. Perrin stepped to the table and opened his book. "Aldric's vote passed this morning," he said, flat and plain. "Pembroke is removed. It's on record. The record is public." He turned the book so the nearest councilor could read. "You can't call this a fantasy. You already voted on it." But the old councilor waved a hand. "One corrupt member. One vote. That proves nothing about the rest of us." That was the trap Flux could not break alone. One name was not the ring. Mirabel rose from her lower seat. She had spent years advising these people, then been thrown out when she stopped being useful. Now she stood in the room that had refused her a seat, and she smiled without warmth. "You want proof of the rest," she said. "I kept the ledgers. All of them." She crossed to the dark table and set down a folded cloth. Grain spilled from it, golden, shimmering, the coin every dimension traded in. It fanned across the stone in a bright heap. "Each buyer paid in this," Mirabel said. "I logged every payment. Who sold. Who bought. How much." She tapped the cloth. "I advised half of you. I remember all of it." A younger councilor went pale. "That's slander." "It's arithmetic," Mirabel said. "The letter named Pembroke's buyer. My ledger names the seller for six more seats. Same grain. Same hands." The chamber broke. Councilors shouted at each other. Two backed toward their doors. The old councilor lowered his hand. The guards stopped, unsure who to obey. Flux stood then. Not to fight. To be seen standing above the mess. "You came to try me," Flux said. "But your own ledger is on the table now, in front of every dimension. You can't dismiss it as one intruder's story." The old councilor sank into a seat. "What do you want." "I want you to answer for all of it," Flux said. "Not tomorrow. Now." No one moved to seize them again. The proof sat between them, bright and undeniable. The council could not bury it. But six frightened councilors, cornered and armed with their doors, were far more dangerous than twelve calm ones.